


Concert Convergence

by FreyaOdin



Series: Synchronicity [3]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Dating, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Musicians, New Year's Eve, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: Mitch joins Scott for New Year's Eve for good music, good friends, and, um, good experiences.Part three of Synchronicity, formerly known as the Christmas Coincidence AU.





	

 

The plan for New Year’s Eve is to head to the house of one of Scott’s sound engineering friends who has apparently been hosting regular musical gatherings for several years, sometimes on holidays, sometimes whenever he feels like it. Mitch isn’t sure this will be his thing; he’s always preferred DJing and/or dancing the night away on New Year’s, EDM pounding loudly through his ears, bones, and soul. Generally followed by drunkenly kissing someone at midnight and then either taking that someone home or getting drunk enough he doesn’t care that he didn’t get to take that someone home.

That last part isn’t a problem this year; Mitch knows exactly who he’s going to take home and exactly what they’ll spend the night and hopefully most of the following day doing. It’s just the actual New Year’s party he has to get through first.

Still, it shouldn’t be too bad. He hasn’t heard Scott perform as of yet, but he has heard him sing a bit in the shower or along with the radio and he’s definitely got a nice voice. If everyone else is at a similar level, Mitch will probably be able to enjoy himself, even if the musical style isn’t what he’d prefer.

***

_The bathroom door slams shut as Mitch is shoved against it, Scott’s hands already cupping his face and his tongue already exploring Mitch’s mouth. Mitch takes a second to feel around near the doorknob, finally locating the latch and turning it with a click._

_They stay like that for a long moment, trading deeper and deeper kisses, pulling at each other, rubbing and grinding as they try to find some relief in the friction._

_“Oh God.” Mitch’s head falls back as Scott’s lips find the perfect spot behind his ear and his thigh presses into his cock with just the right amount of pressure. “Wish you could fuck me right here.”_

_Scott leans back—wait, no, that’s not what Mitch wanted—and digs a hand into the tight front pocket of his jeans, pulling out two foil packets with a flourish._

_Mitch squints at them and then bursts out laughing. It’s lube and a condom, of course. “You’re a fucking Boy Scout.”_

_Scott smirks and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Are you just going to make fun of me or reward my incredible forethought by letting me have you up against this wall?”_

_Oh, well. When he puts it that way, definitely the latter._

***

Mitch has to admit that he’s impressed when they walk in the door. It’s not a huge house, split level, maybe three bedrooms. But it’s got a big open concept living room that’s perfectly designed for parties like this. There’s a bunch of mics and amps and instruments set up along the wall by the back door: a keyboard, a small electronic drum kit, a couple of guitars. Even a violin tucked in the corner. It’s kind of a mess with wires running everywhere and nowhere near enough seating for the number of people already in the place. Mitch has no doubt that some of these people are quite talented, but he’s still not sure he wants to sit through all of it.

There’s a round of “Scott!” from maybe half the people in the living room and then a bunch of bro hugs and fist bumps and cheek kisses and the like. Mitch smiles politely as he’s introduced around, trying to look friendly and open and far less awkward than he feels.

His smile widens into something more sincere when they run into two people he already knows, a DJ he admires and an up-and-coming rapper he’s hung out and collabed with a few times. They’re both really good and Mitch suddenly has far higher hopes for the evening if this is the sort of thing they’ve chosen to spend their New Year’s Eve attending.

***

_Mitch is bent forward, forearms braced against the door, knees spread as wide as the pants around them will allow. Scott’s kneeling behind him; his stubble is dragging along Mitch’s skin as he presses a line of kisses across the swell of his ass. His fingertips are tracing small circles down his crack, teasing and tickling but unfortunately not entering him._

_Mitch turns his head as far as he can to try and look at him. “Are you going to fuck me or wha—?ˮ The question ends with a high-pitched whine as a broad tongue swipes across his hole, hot and wet and divine. “Oh, fuck yes.”_

_Scott repeats the motion, circles around with the tip of his tongue and then flattens it out to lap at him. Mitch squirms and pants and humps the air like the suddenly overstrung mess that he is. Another few swipes and then Scott pulls back, smoothing a palm over Mitch’s hip when he whimpers in protest._

_“You like that?”_

_Like he can’t tell. “God, so much.”_

_Scott, thankfully, doesn’t leave Mitch suffering for long. A thick, lubed finger is soon pushing into him and more kisses are being pressed into nearby skin. “I’ll have to spread you wide open on my bed sometime and eat you out until you come just from my tongue in your ass.”_

_Jesus. “I…” Mitch isn’t sure if that’s possible, but fuck is he ever willing to try. “I’d really like that.”_

_“Yeah?” A second finger slides in beside the first, twisting this way and that until Mitch is shivering with want. “What else would you like?”_

***

Mitch sticks close to Scott. Not only because still he’s a bit anxious—social events aren’t his strength and he hardly knows anyone here—but also because he just wants to be close. Scott’s big and comforting and attentive, even when he’s catching up with his friends. It’s charming.

Mitch is so, so much better at dance clubs, or really anywhere he’s not expected to make small talk or conversation unless someone is directly hitting on him. Scott seems to be in his element though, chatting with this acquaintance, getting to know that stranger. If he’s uncomfortable or anxious at all, he’s doing a damn fine job of hiding it.

He must have been faking some of it though, because Mitch can tell the exact moment when he isn’t, when his smile suddenly brightens and his eyes light up to match. A woman walks over and steps directly into Scott’s embrace. She’s tall, as tall as Mitch, and stunning, with a cascade of sleek brown curls and a flattering dress in a bright orange color that Mitch could never hope to pull off but which sets off her ebony skin beautifully.

Scott presses a kiss to her forehead and then frowns, leaning away put still keeping his arms around her. “Why are you so short?”

She scrunches up her face in what looks like overplayed disgust. “Had to give up my heels, didn’t I? My ankles are like fucking tree trunks and my balance is an absolute nightmare.”

Well, Mitch now knows two things about her, apart from Scott obviously being really fond of her. One, she’s British; that accent isn’t exactly subtle. And two, she’s pregnant, something that hadn’t been obvious when she was walking towards them but now that Mitch has a side view, really, really is.

“I’m sorry you had to give up the Jimmy Choos, queen. You’re still gorgeous.” Scott says. He lifts a hand and hesitates over her stomach, waiting for her nod before placing it gently on her bump. “Everything okay?”

 “I’m fine. Just really not enjoying the more physical aspects of pregnancy.” She turns and offers her hand so elegantly that Mitch knows he’ll be practicing the move in the mirror for weeks trying to replicate it. “You must be Mitch. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” She points her thumb back at Scott over her shoulder. “Tall, pale, and handsome here hasn’t shut up about you all week.”

Scott winces and covers his face with his hands. “For fuck’s sake, Mills. Must you?”

She smiles brightly, white teeth flashing as she laughs at Scott’s discomfort. “So I’m Millie. And if you keep making Scooter as happy as he seems, we’re going to get on like a house on fire.”

Scooter, huh? Somehow, Mitch already believes her.

***

_Mitch hisses and pushes back into the fingers opening him, riding out the additional sensation and coming back for more. “You…you tell me. You seem to know how to turn me on almost as well as I do.”_

_“God, same.” Scott admits, and then twists his fingers perfectly, making Mitch gasp. “You’re so responsive. It’s so easy to tell if I’m getting it right with you.”_

_“And you love getting it right.”_

_“I really do.” There’s another nip on his ass cheek, and then Scott’s fingers disappear. He smooths a hand up Mitch’s side as he stands. There’s a brief pause as he deals with the condom and lube and then he’s pressing against Mitch’s hole, pushing forward just enough that Mitch is sure his angle is good before wrapping his arms around Mitch’s torso and pulling him upright, back into his chest and onto his cock. “Just like that. So perfect, Mitch.”_

_Mitch’s mouth opens in a groan as he’s filled, his head falling back onto Scott’s shoulder. Scott’s knees must be bent ridiculously to make this possible, but Mitch isn’t about to complain. He’s held securely, one long arm folded tight across his shoulders, the other hand gripping his hip. He sighs as warm lips trail down the side of his neck, biting and sucking along the way. “Fuck, yes.”_

_“Mmm, yeah,” Scott says, licking away the sting of a particularly strong nibble. “You like to be held tight and cherished. Worshipped.” The hand on Mitch’s hip loosens, letting him fall forward and then pulling him back with more force. “You want me to suck you and fuck you and then tuck you in, cozy and sated and safe from the world.”_

_That’s…Christ, that’s a wet dream. “Yessss. Want it.” Mitch licks his lips and reaches over his shoulder to cup the back of Scott’s head, fingers spread wide across his scalp. Scott’s rolling his hips, pressing into him, guiding him. It feels familiar, and after a moment Mitch realizes it’s basically the same position they’d been in on the dance floor that first night just over a week ago, except  now they’re actually having sex instead of just mimicking it. “You—fuck,” he has to pause to regain his breath when Scott’s hand drifts around to his balls. He turns his head to nuzzle into the long neck behind him. “You’re a sensualist. You like to feel good, but you really get off on making me feel good. Making me writhe with it. Maybe even making me beg for it?”_

_It’s Scott’s turn to groan and his arm tightens across Mitch’s chest and around the base of his cock. “Fuck, I’d love to make you beg.”_

_Mitch’s whole body seems to throb at the thought. “Please.”_

***

Once the music starts, Mitch’s social discomfort completely evaporates. Fuck, these people are talented. He needs to get to know every single one of them.  First up is a pair of beatboxers who weave and toss the beat back and forth in an impressive battle that has Mitch itching for his laptop and software, eager to try and adapt some of their rhythm into his own style.

They’re followed by a more traditional singer accompanying herself on the keyboard. Her voice is beautiful and light, and although Mitch doesn’t find her as personally interesting as the beatboxers, she’s still enjoyable and Mitch claps as hard as everyone else when she finishes.

Next is an instrumental trio, an eclectic combo of a drummer, a violinist, and a bari sax player. They start off with a classical piece—Mozart, Mitch thinks. But then it slides into this almost dubstep-sounding thing, complete with a drop that shouldn’t have been possible without electronics and a full-on _rewind_ and Mitch can’t believe he’s never heard of them before. He hopes they have a YouTube channel or some iTunes tracks or something because he’s going to need to download everything they’ve ever done as soon as he gets home.

 _Jesus,_ Mitch thinks as he relaxes into Scott, sprawled out behind him on the floor due to the lack of chairs. Forget being bored. It’s like he’s finally found his motherfucking _people_.

***

_Scott presses a kiss to the side of Mitch’s head and then pulls out, leaving Mitch empty and bereft._

_“Wait, no. Please.”_

_Scott shushes him, soft and reassuring, and runs his hands down his sides, over his hips to his thighs. A second later, he’s yanking at his pants, crouching and pulling them the rest of the way off. Mitch has no idea what’s going on, but he supports it and cooperates by lifting each foot in turn when required._

_Once he’s naked from the waist down, he’s spun around and crowded back against the door. A hand on his jaw tilts his face up into a kiss and Scott’s other hand reaches down to grab Mitch’s thigh, pulling it up so it’s curled high over his hip. Mitch gasps with surprise as he’s pulled off-balance and grabs onto Scott’s broad shoulders to stabilize himself._

_Scott smiles and licks into his mouth before drawing back slightly. “You like that I’m bigger than you.” He reaches for Mitch’s other leg and Mitch finally twigs to what’s happening. He tightens his grip on Scott’s shoulders as he’s pulled up, braced with his full weight supported by the wall and Scott’s thighs. “It turns you on that I have enough strength to manhandle you into whatever position I want and make you stay there. Make you take what I give you.”_

_“Yeah.” Fuck, it really does. Mitch tightens his thighs around Scott’s waist, loops his ankles together to hold himself in place, and then reaches down to guide Scott back inside him. He throws his head back and moans through gritted teeth as Scott drives into him with one long glide. “Oh, yessss.”_

_Scott adjusts Mitch’s weight once he’s fully seated, shuffles his feet to get the balance right, and then sets up a steady rhythm. Mitch opens his eyes to find Scott watching him, licking his lips and staring at Mitch’s. They’re almost at the same level like this, the extra length in Scott’s legs negated. He tilts his chin and purses his lips, begging for a kiss and is pleased when it’s instantly delivered._

_Another few thrusts later and Mitch is confident enough in the position to slide one of the hands he has on Scott’s shoulder to his neck and up into his hair. He tugs gently, swallowing Scott’s moan._

_“You love the buildup,” Mitch says between ever deepening kisses. “Love whispering dirty, perfect fantasies... about what you’re going to do to me…and watching me fall apart in your arms before you’ve even started.”_

_“God, yes,” Scott admits, panting with effort into Mitch’s mouth. “Love riling you up before I’ve even touched you...Making you get hard for me again…even after we’ve just fucked.”_

_Mitch whines as Scott’s hand, big and warm and perfectly pressured, slides up to better support his ass. He can barely think about anything except how his feet aren’t even touching the ground and how he’s utterly helpless, pinned to the wall by Scott’s strength and Scott’s cock._

***

Eventually, Mitch loses his backrest when Scott gets up to take his own turn on the makeshift stage. He’d said he was going to sing, but Mitch had kind of forgotten that as he absorbed one unbelievable performance after another. To his surprise, Millie steps up too, taking a mic alongside Scott. The man she’s been cuddling with all evening sits down at the piano and another guy sits down at the drum kit.

Scott starts off simply, the opening verse of _Take Me to Church_ flowing effortlessly from him. Millie joins in halfway through, humming a soft harmony in a rich alto underneath Scott’s melody.

_“I was born sick, but I love it. Command me to be well.”_

Scott’s voice roughens on the amens, weaving restrained runs throughout with very real-sounding emotion. It all changes on the chorus when he lets go of his restraint, belting powerfully enough to make the tendons in his neck strain, jerking his head up and away from the mic whenever necessary to fully control his sound.

Millie matches him, a full and perfect support on the chorus before coming fully into her own as she takes over the second verse, leaving Scott to hum the supporting harmony, albeit less gently than in the first verse.

_“If I’m a pagan of the good times, my lover’s the sunlight.”_

Mitch is fucking enthralled and frankly more than a little turned on. By the time they get to the bridge, trading off line by line, riffing and belting for their lives, he’s practically in tears. He can’t…it’s beautiful. The song clearly means a lot to both of them, and the looks they’re exchanging speak volumes about how much they adore each other’s talent.

_“Offer me that deathless death, good God let me give you my life!”_

There’s a kind of stunned silence in the room as the last note fade out, before everyone’s clapping and whistling and cheering. Millie gives a flirtatious half-curtsey and blows a kiss to her admirers, while Scott gestures towards their backup instrumentalists, flushing red at the applause and grinning behind his hand like an embarrassed but flattered school boy.

Jesus Christ. He’s endearing and his talent is mind blowing and Mitch desperately wants to climb him like a _fucking_ _tree_.

***

_“Touch yourself,” Scott says, adjusting his balance to separate their torsos just enough to make that possible. “Stroke yourself for me. Want to see you come.”_

_Mitch is only too happy to comply, groaning with relief as he wraps a hand around his dick and starts to jerk himself off. Scott doesn’t miss a beat, but the new tilt to his hips has increased the pressure in all the right places and Mitch can’t help the breathy grunt that leaves his lips with each press of his hips. He’s almost bouncing at this point, driven into the door with each deep thrust, so helplessly turned on he can’t even regret the bruises he’ll probably have on his back in the morning._

_Scott himself is panting heavily, gusts of hot air hitting Mitch’s shoulder in time with the cock hitting his prostate. He’s staring down, curved bottom lip caught between his teeth, watching as Mitch pumps himself in the same rhythm._

_“So hot, Mitch. Perfect fingers on your perfect cock, getting yourself off for me. Being so good for me.”_

_Mitch gasps as his cock throbs in response._

_“Oh yeah,” Scott says, grinning through clenched teeth. He leans back in, nuzzling his nose into the side of Mitch’s jaw. “You like being praised. You want me to tell you how pretty you are, how good you are.” His thrusts pause and he grinds in, pulling Mitch farther onto his cock for a long, beautiful moment . “How fuckable you are.”_

_Shit. Mitch’s hand tightens and speeds up around his cock, thrilled and slightly disturbed at how much being called fuckable turns him on. Scott’s hips restart, matching Mitch’s new tempo._

_All of a sudden, the background hum of chatter from the living room seems to get louder. It’s the first time Mitch has really thought about what’s happening on the other side of the door since they got in here, and while he’s slightly mortified that everyone must know exactly what they’re doing, the thought is also more than a little exciting._

_Huh. Add exhibitionism to his ever-growing list of kinks._

_“Ten…nine…eight…” comes from the living room._

_Scott startles slightly, apparently also not aware of the time, but then he laughs, high and bright. He immediately changes the rhythm of his thrusts to line up with the chanting, which of course makes Mitch laugh too._

_“Seven…six…five…”_

_Scott’s grin disappears and he resumes the full strength of his efforts, powering into Mitch as hard and as deep as seems possible. Mitch grunts with each push, reveling in the pressure and the buildup and the way the door rattles behind him in time with the chanting. He speeds up his hand, doubling and then tripling the tempo of his palm gliding over his cock as his body truly begins to scream for release._

_“Four…three…”_

_Mitch is suddenly reminded of the superstition that what’s happening at midnight on New Year’s is how you’ll spend the whole year. For the first time in his life, he’s desperately hoping it’s true. Because a full year of this? Maybe a lifetime if he’s really lucky? Hell fucking_ yes _._

_“Two…one…” Scott’s mouth swoops down onto Mitch’s, stealing the breath he’s already having trouble getting enough of into one of the filthiest, best kisses Mitch has ever experienced._

_“Happy New Year!” yells the party outside. Mitch thinks there’s some cheering and catcalling and laughter, but honestly he’s not really paying much attention anymore._

***

Thankfully they only have to sit through a few more performances after Scott and Millie’s, which are all probably as good as the rest but Mitch can’t concentrate on anything now except the heat of Scott’s body cuddled back up to him and how extreme musical talent is apparently now a _thing_ for him.

The live music wraps up around 11 pm and everyone goes back to chatting and drinking and snacking, though quite a few stay put on the floor. A lot of people start to leave, heading out to make appearances at other parties or events to ring in the New Year more officially, leaving a far smaller group who all seem to know each other quite well.

Scott, meanwhile, seems to have clued into Mitch’s now far hornier mood. He’s holding him tighter, barely letting an inch come between any part of them, and his hands are starting to wander, even as he’s still talking to the people around them.

Mitch is so on board with all the touching. Honestly he’d like to leave right now, but then they’d be stuck in traffic at midnight, still horny and frustrated in the back of an uber instead of at a party. Not really much of an improvement and at least here Scott has all his friends around.

Still, Mitch can’t really help letting his own hands wander, enjoying the way Scott’s jaw tenses as he slides his palms over his shoulders or presses a kiss to his neck or leans into him at just the right angle to shift his hip against Scott’s cock. Which, it turns out, is as hard as Mitch’s.

Scott seems to snap right about then. He grabs Mitch’s hand and looks around quickly before making a beeline for a doorway just off the front entrance, pulling Mitch along behind him. Mitch hears a couple of people laugh and sees one guy roll his eyes and open his wallet when his girlfriend holds out an open palm. But then he’s being pulled through the door and spun around and his entire being is suddenly focused on Scott.

***

_Scott’s still thrusting into him, still kissing him, still holding him pinned and helpless in his arms and on his thighs. Mitch is desperate. The driving cock, the delving tongue, the stroking hand are all fantastic, better than fantastic, but it’s not quite…he needs…_

_Scott breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp. “Gonna come, Mitch. You feel so good, you’re gonna to make me come. But I wanna see you fall apart first.” His lips trail over Mitch’s cheekbone to his ear, breath sharp and hot. “Need to feel you come on my cock, baby. Give it up for me, come on. Let me feel it. Come for me, Mitch.”_

_That does it. Mitch comes hard on the next slide of Scott’s cock across his prostate, shaking and moaning and whining with the strength of it. Scott’s answering groan is deep and long and muffled when he blindly retakes Mitch’s lips. His hips stutter to a halt and Mitch can feel him twitching deep inside his ass even through the force of his own orgasm._

***

They’re just finishing tugging their clothes back on, idly kissing and smiling and viciously abusing the available hand towels to clean themselves up when a sudden banging on the bathroom door startles them both.

“Scott Hoying!” shouts a clearly pissed-off English voice. “I have been patient. I let you have your New Year’s shag in peace. But if you don’t vacate the fucking toilet and let me pee right this bloody instant I will end your sorry excuse for a life.” Her voice softens into something far more pleasant. “Mitch, darling. You seem lovely. I promise I’ll help find you a better boyfriend after I murder this one, but will you _please_ let me in the loo?”

Scott winces and presses a quick kiss to Mitch’s cheek before pulling away to hurriedly finish buttoning his shirt and trying—in vain—to fix his hair. Mitch’s own short style is easy enough to smooth back into place, although his clothes definitely look…slept in. Scott sighs, looks at him questioningly after another quick check of both of them in the mirror, and opens the door when Mitch nods his consent.

“Millie!” Scott exclaims brightly as he’s confronted by 5’10 of irritated pregnant woman. “As always, you’re a beautiful, dulcet-toned ray of sunshine in my life.”

Millie scowls up at him. “I swear if you don’t get the fuck out of my bloody way I will replace your overpriced hair jizz with super glue and laugh until I cry as they shave every scrap of blond wave off your head, you oversexed man-child.” She spares a tight but sincere-seeming smile for Mitch, before slamming the door in Scott’s face.

“You’re a hypocrite!” Scott calls. “We all remember you and Jeff in there on the Fourth of July.”

“Go fuck yourself, Hoying!”

“Don’t think we all haven’t done the math on your due date!”

There’s an unintelligible growl from the bathroom.

Scott smirks. “You love me!”

“You’re a gargantuan blond pain in my arse!”

“Mine actually!” Mitch calls out before flushing with embarrassment when Scott turns to him, wide-eyed.

Shit. He just met her. It’s way too soon to be—

But then Scott’s grinning and wrapping an arm around his shoulders and Millie can be heard laughing through the door. “I’m going to be quite annoyed if you don’t keep him, Scooter.”

Scott grin widens and he presses a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “I’m planning on it.” He pauses to search Mitch’s eyes. “If he’ll let me?”

Mitch smiles back. “I can work with that.”

***

**Thoughts?**

 

 


End file.
